Homily: Christmas (Vigil Mass) – Cycle B
Believe it or not, this is now the
sixth Christmas that I am celebrating with you all here at All Saints. I have to say that I have been very blessed
by my ministry here. Of the many
blessings, one unexpected blessing has been the richness that the cultural
diversity of this community brings to my ministry. Serving this community that combines Anglo
and Latino cultures (as well as, to a lesser extent, Philippino, Vietnamese,
and Burmese cultures among others) has given me a more profound experience of
who we are as Church; and I know that many of you share that same appreciation.
One of the things that I have noticed
about Catholics here in the United States is that the way that we pray and
worship is often very different than the way that Latinos and other cultures
pray and worship. Catholics in the
United States have been heavily influenced by British Protestantism, in
particular the British Puritans that first came and settled here in this land. Protestants, inspired by teachers like Martin
Luther, wanted to turn away from many of the medieval devotional practices that
were common in the 16th century (such as: praying rosaries, lighting
candles before images of the saints, making novenas, and the like—all with the
understanding that “more, for the sake of more, is better” whenever you do it).
These practices (from the outside, at
least) seemed like they were aimed at “earning” grace from God. Martin Luther knew that we cannot “earn”
grace from God, but rather that God freely gives it, and so he began to teach a
different style of prayer and worship that focused less on these outwardly
extravagant devotional practices and more on inner, spiritual practices: namely,
the reading of and meditating on the Scriptures and listening to the Word of
God proclaimed and explained in assembly together.
And we see this influence on United
States Catholicism here today. Anglo
celebrations of the Mass are often rather subdued. The people sit quietly, respond reservedly,
and otherwise try not to make a lot of noise.
From where I sit, I sometimes feel like I have an audience who are
watching my show, instead of a congregation who is actively participating in
it.
I don’t often feel that way when I’m
celebrating a Mass in Spanish with Latinos.
With them there is still a very profound sense that the spiritual is
inseparably intertwined with the physical.
For them, it is simply not enough to close one’s eyes, fold one’s hands,
and pray: “Lord please guard my coming and my going, my front and my back”, but
rather one must also bless himself with holy water both on the front and the
back sides of his body. No, it isn’t
enough for them to come together to sing songs to Mary before a simple image set
up in the corner of the church and at a reasonable hour, such as eight o’clock
in the morning; rather, in order to show their devotion to Our Lady, they set
up an elaborate “altar” in the front of church and get up in the middle of the
night to dress to the nine’s (and their kids, too!) so that they can come to
sing her songs long before the sunrise.
Here at Mass, they are generally much more animated than the
Anglos. Their singing and their
responses are much more enthusiastic, in general (often with animated clapping
along with the rhythm of the music). The
music, itself, is louder and the Mass has more energy, overall.
Of course, all of this energy and
devotional spirit, much like Martin Luther observed in medieval times, can
become extreme. While I was studying
Spanish in Guatemala, I observed, particularly at pilgrimage sites, people
causing themselves great physical pain as they entered to make their prayer at
the shrine. For example, they would walk
on their knees from outside and into the shrine as a sign of their absolute
faith that the favor for which they are pleading could be granted. These are people of great faith, no doubt,
but perhaps a reminder about Jesus’ words that we only need faith the size of a
mustard seed in order to be able to move mountains, might occasionally be
necessary for them. Nevertheless, I
can’t help but appreciate how the Latino culture (and cultures like theirs in
many other places around the world) has maintained its sense that the physical
is inseparably linked to the spiritual.
In many ways, today we celebrate this
connection. Today we celebrate the fact
that God, who is wholly other, pure spirit, and outside and above our senses,
takes on human flesh and makes his dwelling among us. In doing so, we also celebrate the reason
that he came to us: to suffer and to die and to rise again to save us from our
sins; for every moment of Jesus’ life here on earth was a preparation for his
Passion which won for us our salvation. This
is why we don’t cover up the crucifixes in our Church when we celebrate
Christmas: because without the crucifixion, Christmas wouldn’t mean much.
That notwithstanding, as we celebrate
today his coming among us, we emphasize an important truth: that by taking on a
human body, with all of its physical limitations, God wanted us to know that we
can experience him through our senses.
In fact, what God revealed to us through the incarnation of his Son, and
through his Passion, Death, and Resurrection, was that it is precisely through
our human bodies that he wishes to save us.
In the first centuries of the Church,
a bishop named Athanasius proposed this simple, but profound truth: that God
became man, so that man could become God.
You see, before Jesus, it was possible to make an argument that the body
wasn’t necessary to find salvation. This
is because God had not yet revealed fully his plan for the redemption of
mankind. Therefore, it was still
possible to believe that God would simply redeem his people by the power of his
Almighty Word. After Jesus’ coming,
however, it is no longer possible to make this kind of argument. Rather, now that Jesus has won salvation for
us precisely through his human obedience in the flesh—flesh just like yours and
mine!—God’s will that mankind be saved through our human bodies is clear. And this is good news! Good news that we are obliged to share.
Saint Augustine, writing in the fourth
century, said this: “[Mankind,] you would have suffered eternal death, had he
not been born in time. Never would you
have been freed from sinful flesh, had he not taken on himself the likeness of
sinful flesh. You would have suffered
everlasting unhappiness, had it not been for this mercy. You would never have returned to life, had he
not shared your death. You would have
been lost if he had not hastened to your aid.
You would have perished, had he not come.
“Let us then joyfully celebrate the
coming of our salvation and redemption.
Let us celebrate the festive day on which he who is the great and
eternal day came from the great and endless day of eternity into our own short
day of time. …For what greater grace could God have made to dawn on us than to
make his only Son become the son of man, so that a son of man might in his turn
become a son of God?”
My brothers and sisters, there are
some people living around us who have not heard this good news (or, perhaps,
have chosen to ignore it): that the All-Powerful God has taken on human flesh
and come to save us so that we could become like him in our human flesh. Just look around, none of them are here with
us today. Let us, then, be the ones who
bring this message of great joy to them, making our feet “beautiful upon the
mountain”, so that “all the ends of the earth will behold the salvation of our
God”; the salvation that has been born to us this day.
Given
at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 25th, 2017
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